The day Doctor Carlisle Cullen met Esme Anne Platt
by Crimson Paradox
Summary: The last few minutes before Carlisle Cullen met the love of his life, and what happened afterwards.
1. So Alone

[author's note - okay, so this is the first story I've ever published on here. It's actually part of a biography I'm doing for someone's myspace account. I mainly just wanted to see if the upload worked! Anyway, please read and review, I'm not the most confident of writers!]

[**edit - obviously I don't own Twilight, OR the characters! I just make them do different things :D]

**Carlisle's POV**

_Maybe I was meant to be alone? _

I had lost track of how many years I had been _'alive'_ after the first century. There was no point in remembering. I knew I could if I wanted to. But I didn't. What reason would make me remember the day that would symbolize the years passing in this world? Passing in loneliness and despair. Did I really need to remind myself of just how _alone _I was?

Yes, I had Edward, and he was everything I could ever ask for in a companion. But I wanted more than that. I wanted to know _love. _My…overwhelming desire for a simple loving touch seemed to have become reflected in my thoughts. Edward was becoming increasingly worried about what he considered to be my incoherent, sometimes even _frightening_ thoughts.

_Is it so wrong to long for loving hands?_

I sometimes laughed at myself. There I was, striving to be the perfect gentleman, and all the while, my thoughts were filled with a longing desire to even just hold a woman. Of course, I was quite sure I would have many 'volunteers' if I was to suggest such a thing. Edward deliberately did not bring the subject up very often, finding my thoughts both wearing and pointless. He argued that even without my constant thoughts of unconceivable love and passion, I still _'drove him mad'_ because when we sat down and talked properly about the possibility of creating others for more than just companionship…I knew I could never turn someone for my own pleasure. In being so…noble, I was condemning my own fate before it began, and seemingly, Edward's as well.

My thoughts mirrored the weather on that night perfectly. The sky was particularly dark and stormy, and the grey storm clouds looked swollen with moisture. I was on the night shift, working in a small hospital in the centre of Columbus. The assisting nurse, Amanda, had failed to turn up for her shift that night, due to a family member passing away. I was alone. I sat in Amanda's chair by the dim light of the oil lamp, reading the works of Edgar Allen Poe. My feet were gently propped against the desk. I shivered. Alone…I wondered on more than one occasion that night what Edward would make of me perhaps just going to the house we shared together, and saying hello. No…he would think I had finally lost my mind. And maybe I had. Maybe the tortured, broken soul inside of me had finally taken me over.

I turned the pages of my book restlessly. I had read it before - many times - and I could remember every word with perfect detail. I was merely keeping up the pretence of doing something human, but it was a mystery to me why I even bothered. There were no humans around to convince…Even so, I continued to turn those pages delicately with my strong, cold fingers.

The familiar words seemed to fade in my mind, to again be replaced by my previous thoughts. My mind was certainly restless. I wondered vaguely how a dead heart could feel so much pain. Not physical pain...that was almost too mild, compared to this. Emotional pain had always seemed to me to be the worse of the two. After all, there was no real cure. It all depended on strength of will, and mine had been weakened considerably. After all, even my human life had been far from a happy one. I was never the son my father had wanted, and he had always resented me, because my poor mother had died giving birth to me. It felt like I was fated to live this harsh, lonely existence as some punishment for an awful deed I could not recall I had done.

Pressing my hand over my chest, my throat seemed to get tighter when my fingers failed to detect a heartbeat. I was not alive. My body had been _'dead'_ since last quarter of the seventeeth century. Maybe only humans - only truly _living _creatures - deserved something as _beautiful_ as love? From the moment my creator had sunk his impossibly strong, furious teeth into my neck, I had been damned for eternity to be this cold, unfeeling creature...but I was not cold, and I _did _feel. Perhaps more strongly than any human in the world. That, however, was not the impression people received of me. It - it was at that point that I realized I had begun to truly hate my existence.

_What is the point of my being? Why can't I just **die**?_

A slight shudder ran through my body when my over-sensitive ears picked up the thud of my book on the floor. So it was possibly to surprise a vampire? I almost managed a small smile. I had certainly never felt so human before. My eyes dropped naturally to the backs of my hands, and I laid them palm-down on the desk before me. My skin was perfectly smooth, and a brilliant milky white. Un-natural. Certainly _not _human. My realization of the fact brought me gasping. _I was not human!_ I would never be human again! I was a _vampire._ A _monster!_ I had tried to be good. I had tried to find meaning in this existence. Oh, I had tried so _unbelievably_ hard…but all my efforts had proved futile. What good had I ever done in this cruel world? Nothing. My...existence meant nothing at all.


	2. Strange New Feelings

Had fate not allowed me a chance meeting with a sweet, beautiful sixteen year old by the name of Esme Anne Platt, I know I would have destroyed myself. I had been toying with the notion of begging the Volturi to end my existence for easily over a decade. Needless to say, Aro had grown rather fond of me after my short time living with the Volturi, and he blatantly refused to harm me. This did nothing to comfort me. On the contrary, I had even begun to draw the conclusion that I was not good enough to be a part of Edward's life any more.

A loud knocking at the door had risen me with a jolt from my deep, unpleasant thoughts. I looked up, vaguely puzzled at who would possibly be calling at this hour. Aside from me, I doubted very much if anybody else on the entire street was awake. It could only be an emergency.

I stood up stiffly, which was most unusual for me. I had less than a second to think about it. The knocking on the door became more persistant, and I hurried to open it, afraid to wake the good people of Columbus.

I was taken aback when a tender, warm body was thrust roughly into my arms. A man's gravelling voice rasped "My daughter, she broke her leg. Deal with it, won't you?" I blinked rapidly, surprised at such a...cold reception from this sweet young girl's father. That was all the time he needed to disappear.

I carried the young girl into the hospital with me. I almost winced in sympathy for her as she began to shake against me. My body was much colder than the night outside, and I only wore my thin work shirt. That said, it was bitterly cold outside - cold enough to make the breath visible - and the storm was almost directly overhead. The poor thing was soaking wet, her face etched with terror. "Hello," I said lightly, not wishing to alarm the frightened creature even more. "My name is Carlisle Cullen. What is yours?"

"E-Esme...Esme Anne Platt..." she chattered. I almost smiled as the shaky words tripped out of her mouth. Her voice was like honey, impossibly sweet, with delicate soprano overtones. I expected that she would have a wonderful singing voice, if ever she tried. I opened my mouth to ask her how she had broken her leg, but she shivered hard against me, and instinctively, I held her a little tighter.

"Well, Esme...what seems to be the problem?" I asked, already knowing. Even if her abrupt father had not mentioned her condition, I would have taken merely a few seconds to work it out for myself. Her left leg was far colder than the right. Loss of blood. And I could feel the bones shifting wrongly against each other as I carried her. I tried to slow down, unwilling to allow even my abrupt pace to harm the girl any more. I found myself wishing more than anything that she would speak to me again. I felt almost desperate to hear her voice.

"Are you a doctor?" she asked, a puzzled look crossing her face. "I'm sorry!" she muttered, blushing furiously when her dazzling eyes caught my puzzled frown. I smiled, unable to help myself. I almost closed my eyes. The sensation of a smile after all those years was a feeling close to complete happiness for me. I made a mental note to remember that a vampire's muscles did become stiff over time, if unused, just like a human. Only it took much longer for that to happen.

"There is no need to apologize to me!" I laughed. "I was merely intrigued. Do I not look like a doctor to you?" I smiled again. What was _wrong _with me? I knew her young mind was probably running over the fact that I hardly seemed a decade older than her. I looked the right age to have just passed my medical exams. She perhaps was not very comfortable with me?

"I umm...well, I thought I might have passed out," she admitted, biting her lip. My eyes focused on the tender skin of her bottom lip, and my throat tightened. I forced my eyes forward, and tried to concentrate on the dull grey wall before me. It was no use. As Edward would say, it is the difference between watching paint dry or having the chance the associate yourself with the most beautiful of roses.

_Carlisle! What has gotten into you? She is a child!_

"W-Why do you think that?" I asked. I silently cursed myself at the tremble in my voice. I was vulnerable. She had come into the worst moment of my life, and I knew I was weaker than I should allow. Had this beautiful soul came into my life at any other time, I would have forced myself to keep my feelings under control. But...what exactly _was it_ that I was feeling? I had never felt this before. My head was spinning with so many different emotions that I could scarcely believe my body could contain it all.

**A/N - Please review it! I would appreciate any and all comments very much! I am so sorry these chapters are so short, at the moment. I am a little short on time. I promise they are going to get longer! **


	3. I don't want a man

**Esme's POV**

Esme Anne Cullen. Forever the tomboy. I had never been a great fan of doing 'girlie' things. And then, there was that awful colour that everybody thought I ought to like! Pink! Yeurgh! My room had been painted the traditional white, as was the rest of the house, but my mother had seen fit to draw pink roses in various patterns all over the walls. Every time I opened her eyes in the morning, I felt sickened. I think I hated the colour so much because of how it had been forced on me since birth.

I scowled. The sound of my parent's voices downstairs seemed louder, harsher than usual. I knew what that meant. I knew my mother, or my father - maybe even both - would be standing in the doorway in barely a few minutes, asking why I was being 'disobidient' this time. I almost laughed. It was for the same reason I hated pink! Just because I'm a girl! I certainly wasn't one to follow rules of any sort, and the more someone tried to force me to, the more I mentally dug my heels in and refused.

I lay sprawled on my bed, propping myself up on my elbows. I watched the doorway nervously, almost wishing my parents were there already. I was ready to argue. Ordinarily, I would have given up after a few choice words from my father, but I felt in no mood to be persuaded of anything that day.

A sound close to disgust leaked from my mouth when I heard the first steps on the stairs. I almost smirked. Wars had been started for less than this. Keeping a determined frown upon my young, impossibly delicate features, I waited for my parents to walk into view. A thousand words were spinning in my mind, each as un-ladylike and deserving of a punishment as the next.

In the end, only my mother made an appearance. She wore that familiar heavy look on her face. The same one she always wore when she knew her little Esme was going to be difficult. I knew only one thing filled her mind at that moment. I was dishonouring the family, behaving so childishly. Most of my friends had long decided whom their life partners would be. Why did it have to be my mother who was destined to be given such a stubborn, disobedient child?

I struggled into a sitting position as my mother reached the doorway. I did not mind so much now. My mother, at least, seemed to be somewhat understanding of me. I had suspected for a very long while that my father hated me. He had wanted a son - an heir - when my mother had fallen pregnant. Instead of the perfect son, he had gotten me. Forever following my own path, not worried in the slightest of what damage that might cause to my family's carefully built and maintained reputation.

"Esme..." Mom sighed, resting her hand against the doorframe. "We are only thinking of what's best for you. You'll have to get married some day." I frowned at my mother's words. She always managed to make me feel like everything was my fault. Why wasn't I allowed to just be how I wanted to be? Was it because I was a girl, and therefore obviously nowhere near as important as _men?_

"I'm never getting married," I replied stubbornly, folding my arms. "I'm going to have a house of my own, with a pet and everything and I don't need a man!" I jumped off my bed as my mother opened her mouth to say something - probably to scold me again. Without another word, I pushed past Mom and stormed downstairs. My father shouted at me to go and see him from the living room, but I ignored him. If he wanted to follow me, he was just going to have to get up, wasn't he?

I blinked rapidly when I finally pulled the front door open and rushed into the sunlight. Good weather was scarce in Columbus, but I enjoyed it while it lasted. That day, however, I was in no mood to enjoy the sunshine. I stumbled over the small rockery at the end of the garden and headed for the forest…more specifically, my Oak tree.

_Why do they always have to ruin __**everything? **__Can't they see I'm happy with things the way they are? I don't even __**like**__ any boys! Yeurgh, I am __**never **__getting married! They're only pushing me because of their stupid __**reputation! **_

Coming to a short stop at the edge of the forest, I sighed and looked up to the sky. It was starting to get dark now. It was well past four o'clock in the afternoon, when I had last checked the time. I didn't care. I would stay out all night if I had to. I treaded the familiar path towards my Oak tree, and managed a bright smile at the sight of it. The beautiful old tree always made me feel better about anything, it didn't matter what it was. I supposed it was the fact that it was always there, and I had a great many good memories of that tree.

I had always been a perfectionist. Usually, I would place my feet carefully on each branch, calculating exactly how far I needed to reach to climb further, but that day, I decided she knew the tree well enough, and I was in no mood for counting. After all, I had been counting most of my life. It could be anything…steps, people, animals or branches in trees. It was almost as though time was ticking away, leading up to an important moment in my life, and I wished more than anything that it would arrive already.

I climbed the tree easily, grinning about halfway up. My nimble fingers grabbed each higher branch deftly as I hoisted my small body up higher. The next branch, however, was badly miscalculated. I had forgotten that I had to hold it right near the tree trunk. Anywhere else was just not strong enough to support my weight. Still feeling angry about the argument with my parents, I grabbed at the branch absent-mindedly, and it snapped cleanly in two, leaving me clinging to the broken end. I gasped, and moved my legs frantically, trying to find a good foothold, but the movement was too much for the fragile piece of wood, and I was suddenly falling fast towards the ground.

Giving a shriek of surprise, my hands reached out to grab something. _Anything. _Despite my efforts, all I managed to do was to graze my palms on a couple of the lower branches. I saw a quick blur of the tree trunk, and suddenly, it was over. I heard a loud crack, at exactly the same time as I felt an excruciating pain travelled up my right leg and into the base of my spine. I cried out, half in shock, and half in agony. Through suddenly watering eyes, I cast my eyes down, and opened my mouth, stifling a moan. My leg was bent wrongly to the side, and I could see blood seeping through a fresh hole in my skirt. I touched the blood with interest, but that made the pain even more intense and the tears finally started to fall down my cheeks. I dragged my gaze away from my ruined leg, and looked around, as though expecting somebody to be there. Of course, there was nobody. I gave a terrified little whimper, and looked back at my injury.

I stayed there, sitting at the bottom of her Oak for a good half an hour before I decided I would either have to move myself, or I would never be found. My parents didn't know about this place, and none of my friends did either. Mainly because I didn't exactly_ have _any friends.

I experienced the most painful moments of my life on my awkward journey back home. I managed to somehow get myself into a standing position without putting any weight on my leg. Once I was standing, I rested a grazed hand against the trunk of the tree and said in a small voice "I know it's not your fault. I'll still come to see you." This was relatively normal for me. Being a lonely child, I made friends with anything…including inanimate objects. I tree was my best friend, though, and I couldn't be angry with it, no matter how much pain it had caused me.

I ended up having to hop for most of the way home. Every time I moved forward, my leg gave a twinge of pain, and I felt the bone just below my kneecap almost moving around. I wondered if my leg would ever be right again..

Once I was in view of the house, I spotted my frantic-looking mother staring out of the kitchen window. With a great sigh of relief, I gained the strength to hop a few more steps, until she appeared in her mother's line of vision. The small 'o' of horror that formed on my mother's lips when she saw me told me quite plainly that the argument was forgotten for the moment. I was more relieved about that than whatever condition my poor leg was in.

"Esme! What happened?" Mom shouted, running out of the front door and down the path. Reaching me quickly, her eyes fell to the tear in my skirt, and the way my leg was angled wrongly. She raised a hand to her mouth, gently wrapping her free arm around my shoulders. "Sweetheart, how did you hurt your leg?"

Somehow, I had managed to stay brave up till that point. For some reason, the appearance of my mother seemed to suddenly make all that bravery disappear, and my bottom lip trembled. "I…I fell…" I sobbed, furiously wiping the tears away from my eyes. "I…don't know…how it…happened…I'm sorry!" I didn't dare to mention my tree. I thought my father would probably disown me if he ever found out. Climbing trees was a 'man's sport' after all. I felt relieved for my mother's warm, comforting weight next to me. I leaned my head against her shoulder and looked up into her face. "It really hurts…" I said in a small voice.

Unfortunately, my father was not so understanding. I had been relieved when my mother had assured me that the injury was not my fault, and that they would of course take me to the hospital immediately. I stayed in the kitchen, sitting on one of the chairs and watching blankly at the birds through the window while my mother went to ask my father if he could perhaps hire a carriage. His answer was short and honest. "No. It's her own fault." I heard the muffled words from my place in the kitchen, and my eyes filled up again. He didn't care about me, he never had. I sometimes wondered if my mother only cared about me because of maternal instinct. I sighed, detecting the first signs of another fight, this time between my parents. I awkwardly made my way into the living room, deciding I wanted to face my father when I spoke to him.

The look Dad gave me when I shyly hobbled through the door was not a pleasant one. He opened his mouth to speak - probably to say again that I was not going to the hospital - but I got there first. "Well, I'll just have to make my own way to the hospital then, daddy. I'm sure I can explain to the doctors why my parents didn't come with me." My brave words did the trick. My father grimaced and a resigned look crossed his face.

"Fine," he muttered, not looking at me. "But if they transfer you, I'm not taking you all over town."

The carriage my father hired was dark, damp and smelled strongly of hay. I didn't mind that at all. I actually found the scent quite comforting. Thinking about it for a second, I doubted very much that I would have felt any different about it, even without the excruciating pain of my broken leg. Mom, however, found the smell almost nauseous, and Dad suggested she stay at home. I didn't like that at all, feeling a small thrill of fear at his words. Sitting in that carriage next to the man I had always guessed hated my very existence was not one of the most comforting of things in the world. He had always wanted a son, my mother had said. An heir. And instead, he had gotten me. Little Esme Anne. Forever the tomboy, ever un-ladylike, and an embarrassment to my family's carefully created reputation.

Hours later, after what I considered the most awkward journey ever, we arrived at the small hospital. My father had subjected me to a half hour's lecture about how I would never be the daughter my mother had longed for, and why couldn't I be a nice, normal young lady, like the adorable Francesca from across the town. I had grimaced at those words. Francesca was as good as my worst enemy. If only my father knew what that girl was _really _like… I was willing to bet anything that he would change his mind about wanting me to be like her, then. She _certainly _liked boys. Not wanting to convey my true feelings on the matter, I had mumbled a non-committal answer, and nodded in the right places whenever he opened his mouth. The pain in my leg seemed to worsen at the sound of my father's voice. I knew that was silly. It would be the movement of the carriage, of course. Still, my young mind insisted that it was the middle-aged, balding man beside me that made the pain worse.

My father seemed to realize _eventually _that I was genuinely in no condition to listen to yet another one of his lectures, and his mumbled words trailed into silence. I thought that might have been worse! The silence was far harder to endure than my father's angry words. At least, while he had been talking, I could feign some sort of vague interest. And so, I was left to dwell on the pain of my leg, which naturally intensified the burning feeling even more. I felt a huge sense of relief when the carriage finally pulled to a stop, and despite the break, I was the first one out. The cool evening air felt wonderful against my face, compared to the stuffy heat of the carriage, and the throbbing that had started at my temples eased immediately. For a brief moment, I almost forgot why we had travelled so far.

My father picked me up, and carried me over to the door. He moved most of my weight to one hand, and rapped his knuckles smartly against the wood. I frowned. I was sure the only reason he had picked me up was to keep up appearances. He certainly did not care enough about me to do it out of kindness. After all, he had allowed me to walk to the carriage from the house, even pushed me to walk _faster. _The frown was still on my face when the door was pulled open. And just like that, within no more than a second, it disappeared. I almost smiled.

**A/N - Sorry about the problems I had with this chapter. It'll teach me to write something at 4am in the future!**


	4. How can he be human?

I never expected a storm that night. It felt almost as though the weather was acting in sympathy with my pain. Maybe that was my childish mind working overtime...I rarely believed in coincidences back then. Everything happened for a reason. Usually a reason that had much to do with me. I think I believed every action in the world was the consequence of some small action I had done. So, the storm was my fault. That was fine by me. I didn't mind storms. They were usually quite exciting, but not today. Today, I was not in the comfort of my own home. I was cold, wet and more than a little frightened. The thunder sounded so much louder outside.

Carlisle's arms were both comforting and a little disturbing. The emotional warmth was there - the compassion in his eyes was far more than my mother or father ever showed me, but his arms felt cold and stiff, almost like stone. I didn't mind, exactly. I was quite sure she could stay in his arms all day and not want him to put me down, but I had always been far too perceptive for my own good. I never mentioned the fact that he breathed maybe twice in the time that it took to walk down the corridor. I put it down to him being a 'grown-up' although I knew my father did not have such a good breathing technique.

"E-Esme...Esme Anne Platt..." I stuttered when he asked my name. I think I gave him the impression that I was just very cold, but that was only half of the reason for my rather strange way of answering. I felt almost embarrassed that the doctor actually wanted to speak to me. I suppose I felt inferior in a way, as though I thought such beauty was not worthy for the likes of somebody like me. And there was another thing - until I met Carlisle Cullen, I would never in my life have considered a man to be beautiful. There was no other word to describe him. Attractive didn't even Ibegin/i to cover it! I remember thinking Iso this is what it feels like to love somebody./i

Doctor Cullen asked what my problem was, but I couldn't tell him. I didn't want to admit to him that I had been foolish enough to be climbing a tree. Maybe he would think me an insolent child, and treat me like my father had always treated me? In a vain effort to hide the fact that I was beginning to get a little upset, I asked if he was a doctor. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, and I'm still not quite sure how it managed to slip from my mouth. I apologized the moment the words were out, but the damage was done. Or...I thought it was damage...Carlisle did not seem put-off at all, or maybe that was just his professionalism shining through. My fears melted away when I saw him smile. My eyes focused on his smile, almost as though it was hypnotic. He had the most beautiful smile in the world! Even though my small, frail body was close to freezing, I felt instantly warmed. The darkness didn't seem so bad any more. Not with Doctor Cullen with me.

His voice sounded almost like singing when he spoke. I had only heard a few singers in my short life, but I knew straight away that none of them could hold a candle to Doctor Cullen. He had the softest voice in the world, and it made my spine tingle when he laughed. How could such a heavenly sound be made by a mere human? I knew the answer to my silent question before I had finished asking it. It was impossible. No human could do that, and Doctor Cullen was icertainly /inot human. Or not as human as the rest of us, anyway. He just couldn't be!

"Do I not look like a doctor to you?" he asked, with another beautiful smile. It took me a few moments to realize he expected an answer. I had no idea what to say. I couldn't tell him the truth, he would laugh...he would laugh.

"I umm...well, I thought I might have passed out," I said quietly, just a little above a whisper. I suppose I had hoped he wouldn't hear, but I should have known. Everything else about this man was perfect; of course his hearing was going to follow that tradition. I met his eyes shyly, but only for a second. His gaze moved, and I blushed. I knew he was watching my mouth, because I had watched his in the same way when that beautiful smile crossed his face. I looked away quickly, suddenly feeling embarrassed, and rather too warm, despite my freezing clothes clinging to my skin.

I almost laughed at the tremble in his voice. I had caused that! I wasn't useless, after all. I was...was isomehow/i having an effect on this perfect man! I knew not to get too worked up about it, in case I was wrong, but I could see all the signs. Doctor Cullen was acting with me the way my father had used to be with my mother - like he was almost hypnotized. I wondered if he could feel what I felt? "I think that because it's true!" I said incredulously. "Am I definitely not passed out?" I asked, suddenly genuinely feeling worried that this man was just my imagination. I moved my hand to his cheek and pressed the tips of my fingers against his skin. Cold, utterly smooth, but real. Definitely real. There was no doubt about that. "I-I thought I was dreaming because...well...because people like you only exist in dreams," I said quietly, casting my eyes downwards. I was suddenly almost afraid of his reaction. What if I Ihad/i got the wrong idea? I had never felt remotely attracted to a man before, and for all I knew, I could very well have been ruining things for myself before they had even began. I chanced a very quick, curious glance at his face - no more than a few seconds - praying that his reply would be at least understanding.


End file.
